Submantle- The Alpha Key

by Patrick Lane

  Then, catching Nifty off guard, she sidled up to him. “You’d better track me down once you return to Rocktower…for practice of course.” She said flushing deeply.

  And without waiting for any kind of reply, she headed toward the door, but, as if remembering something important she pulled up sharply before exiting and turned to regard him one last time with those unforgettable green eyes.

  “Oh, one more thing. I wouldn’t bring whatever you end up with to the practice fields at Rocktower. Barton Fartwell will assuredly make every effort to get you banned from the games should he get wind of it.” Then, spinning on a heel, she left.

  Nifty was tempted to follow, and desperately resisted the urge, but failed miserably.

  “Lulu wait.” He called out, as he exited the foundry behind her.

  She turned back and regarded him with an arched eyebrow. “Yes?”

  “Well, I ahhh…wanted to thank you for helping me.” He began, as he clumsily reached a hand into his breast pocket for the pendant. “and, ahhh, I kinda don’t know when I’ll see you next so, here.” He shoved the necklace at her before she could say anything. “I thought that this might look pretty on you or something.”

  Lulu examined the necklace for a moment, unreadable, and that’s when Nifty finally realized something. Maybe she was as bad at this kind of stuff as he was, maybe worse. Was that why she was always so defensive? He wondered.

  “I mean, you can give it to someone else if you like, I just though you may like it.” He added for good measure.

  “I’m just doing my job you know.” Lulu began.

  “Lulu, stop.” Nifty replied, cutting off whatever else she was about to stay and with a sigh he pushed his embarrassment away, almost preferring to face a thousand branders and Dominions rather than muddle through what he was planning to do next.

  “I like you, ok? I really enjoyed our time together tonight and I really want to see you again when we get back to Rocktower, sparring be slagged.” He said, forcing his eyes to stay locked on hers.

  Lulu set the tea set down and for the first time Nifty could tell she was nervous. “You’re not going to make this easy are you Orediten?” She said finally, reaching out to take the necklace.

  “You wouldn’t have it any other way.” Nifty replied, with a wry grin.

  She held up the necklace for a moment, no doubt to examine the craftsman ship. “A ripwing made from airiron? Interesting.”

  “It’s not a ripwing? I mean…” Nifty began, horrified at the thought, he’d thought it was a falcon of some sort.

  “Gotcha,” She replied, eventually returning a grin of her own.

  Before he could say more she’d pocketed the necklace and picked up the tea set once again, creating a perfectly innocent barrier between the two.

  “Maybe we should talk about this when I see you next.” Lulu said, to Nifty’s unanswered question. “Maybe even meet for a drink at the Roosters Bounty.”

  And with that, she turned and left.

  “Yeah, I guess I’ll see you later.” He said to her retreating back, trying to keep his voice as casual as possible.

  Nifty wanted to say more, to chase her once again, but this time his resolve dug in and refused to let him chase her like some love-struck dross wit. After all, she had taken the necklace, a win by all accounts.

  He turned back to the foundry entrance to find Smoath leaned up against door frame. “The lass didn’t even say thank you.” He said with a cackling laugh. ““That one be a handful… but worth it I’d wager,”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  “So, it’s decided then, ten configurations?” Smoath asked patiently, gazing across the drafting table at his pile of sketches. “And you’re sure I couldn’t persuade you to build an alternate handle head or two? There be more than enough airiron for the task, even after my payment from your stockpile.”

  “Well, maybe just one.” Nifty replied, his head reeling with all the technical jargon Smoath had inundated him with in the past hour.

  With Lulu gone, they had left Master Gillwattle to close the office.

  “Lock her down tight, friend.” Smoath advised. “The lad may have grown half a dozen tails, wandering about with this much treasure. Wake up Piper and Tatum, and set them loose about the perimeter. They have my permission to bite first if anyone is seen to linger about too long.”

  Nifty waited for a cackle as Gillwattle bowed slightly and removed a highly illegal kill cane and a bloated key ring from behind his desk, but the laugh never came.

  “Valence hyenas from Yolon, big ones, the clever slaggers will give even the stoutest hearts pause,” Smoath answered to the unasked question.

  Nifty cringed inwardly. Smoath was right – they were one of the nastiest creatures borne from ancient times, highly resistant to Flux weapons and close enough genetically to wolves to be truly devastating combatants. He wondered if Grunt and Snort together could face down even a single creature. He found himself quickly re-evaluating the friendly old codger for harboring such unsavory beasts.

  Ryder appeared on Gillwattle’s desk and flew across to land on Nifty’s shoulder. Man’s friends strong, not trouble now. She signaled, leaving Nifty wondering what exactly she meant.

  Smoath nodded, agreeing with the duster, and with that the old man led him back into the enormous foundry, past freshly machined parts, past his workshops, to a smaller, self-contained foundry deep inside, tucked into a corner. It was immediately apparent the room hadn’t seen recent uses as evidenced by the dust gathered on the thermosilk coverings on half a dozen machines. Although, a blast furnace fed by a far larger version in the foundry proper looked well-stoked and ready for use.

  “This be me old workshop. I still have occasion to visit it when I do find something of interest to pass the time. And this, lad, this be one of those things.” Smoath pulled back the thermosilk to reveal a reso-scanner. “I must confess, despite me cautions, I was ‘opin’ you’d prove foolhardy enough to request the upgrades. I’ll take the job me self, and be glad for the distraction,” he cackled, dry washing his hands once more.

  “I’ll need journeyman rates, and my Monsourion master machinist tracking final construction and implementation, so that be an additional expense…a portion of the airiron should bout cover the price…”

  And there it was. Nifty had wondered what would make a man in Smoath’s position take on such a job; he’d been half expecting to get shooed out the door at the mention of it.

  “A… ah ah…” Nifty fumbled, part of him willing to play along. “If you’re up to the task, sir.” He didn’t know what to say as something suddenly became crystal clear. It was all fine and well to have Lulu and Belle plaguing the man for information, probably regarding the Key, but leaving a small fortune of airiron with someone he’d met not minutes before, in an unsanctioned Helix, where the rules were at the discretion of the powerful – Nifty found himself with no leverage. And he felt a like a rookie fool for the oversight.

  Nifty considered his options. Smoath, by merit of age and running the foundry, undoubtedly possessed a wealth of information about the handling of metals. But, he was old, so terribly old. That was the one fact that told Nifty he could probably trust the wizened old man. If Smoath hadn’t left the foundry at his age he probably never would.

  “Spit it out lad. I know I you be bursting to say something about me age,” Smoath demanded, misinterpreting the look on Nifty’s face.

  Nifty smiled at that. The old man was sharper than most and that was all that mattered here. In fact, the sudden realization tipped his reluctance on its head. “I’m being a fool, of course. It would be an honor to have you work on such an insignificant project.”

  “Nonsense, I’ve never worked on a piece much larger than me hand and I’m lucky to see even that much once a year. With this much airiron, I’ll be searching the foundry archives for days to scrounge up the correct techniques for machining and Linking and then to complete the renderings.”

 
“Days?”

  “Days, lad, and I be guessing at least a week or more to manufacture the parts. It needs be synced with your boots, belt, jacket and helmet. Lucky for you, lad, that I have most standard issue uniforms on file, otherwise t’would be back to your vessel to fetch them for a proper fitting,” Smoath replied, waving Nifty forward and indicating he wanted the shatter-bat and metal.

  With an inward groan Nifty handed over his pack.

  They spent the next two hours scanning and measuring the bat, discussing options, finally narrowing it down to ten configurations, and the rest was spent in the painful process of drilling Nifty for enough genetic samples for Linking the airiron. Smoath cursed him for a child every time he flinched as the drill bit too deeply into the bone.

  “I think these ten will work well,” Nifty said finally, feeling a sore in half a dozen places and a little overloaded with technical talk, not really his area of expertise. Apparently the milling was the easy part, but energizing and Linking each weapon or tool that had individual energy requirements was a technical nightmare. A lance whip and goliath shield shared almost nothing in common. So in addition to the upgrades, he needed specialty Flux rods that could work within the same weapon.

  “Well, what do you want done with the rest of it?” Smoath asked as he folded up the thermosilk that had wrapped his bat, shoving it back into the pack. The airiron had been weighed and separated into piles. Smoath’s pile was larger than Nifty thought was probably fair, but he decided not to quibble.

  “Did you get a good look at Lulu’s truncheon and whip?” Nifty finally asked after a long pause, trying not to blush in front of the old man.

  “Did I get a good look? Did I get a good look?” Smoath cried gleefully as he hopped his old bones from side to side, the cackle actually sounding real this time. “I knew ye be smitten. I knew ye be. She’ll not be thanking you at first though, lad. I took no genetic material from her to make a Link – she’ll be shock linking like they used to, a might painful if my records…” He stopped what he was about to say and leaned in to inspect Nifty’s jacket where it lay flopped across one of the work benches. With a surprisingly steady hand he reached out and plucked something off the arm and held it up for inspection.

  A single red hair, longer than Nifty’s, was caught between his fingers.

  “Well, well, well. It not be the best of samples but mayhap it could lessen the pain of the link for the lassie. She may even remain conscious.” He cackled.

  Crossing to where Nifty stood he clapped him on the back with a surprisingly strong hand. “I know her weapon design well lad, I did me apprenticeship at Rocktower. I may even have copies on file…”

  Thuuwwuuup! Reverberated into the workshop from the offices out front.

  “Slagg, Gillwattle be gone by now…” Smoath started.

  “Wait here, sir,” Nifty ordered, slinging his back pack on quickly and heading back to the offices.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Nifty ran through the foundry, his mind racing with a hundred scenarios, none of them good. Something told him the explosion had to do with him but not to do with the airiron. If Piper and Tatum lived up to their reputations they should have been nearly impossible to get past, especially against the type of riff raff that had been dispatched earlier in the courtyard.

  As he ran, his ears were met with the angry sounds of animals engaged in some kind of altercation.

  “Ryder, we’re back on duty,” Nifty said to the duster as she flew beside him. “Stay out of sight until I call you.”

  He was met with an unexpected sight as he rushed through the offices: The doors had been blasted off their hinges. Out in the courtyard, Nifty saw that Lulu had mounted one of the valence hyenas and had her whip wrapped around its snout like a makeshift bridle. She was holding onto a studded metal collar for dear life as the animal bucked and tossed its head, trying to dislodge its unwelcome passenger.

  Meanwhile, Buttar and Snort were facing off against the second beast. Buttar circled to distract the creature as Snort made continuous feints, his tusks gleaming wickedly in the dim light of the courtyard.

  “Don’t just stand there like some slack-jawed dross wit,” Lulu yelled, spying him in the doorway. She struggled to maintain her grip on the black and yellow beast as it flattened its fur tightly against its body.

  “Dross Stone,” Nifty cursed. They had a metal mane. He hadn’t seen that in years. The rare ability allowed each of the creature’s kinetic hairs to interlock with its neighbor, creating a slick scale-like texture to its hide and minimizing any grip Lulu may have had with her boots and thighs.

  Both Hyenas were females, taller than either Buttar or Snort, but sitting somewhere between them in weight. They looked like heads and necks with legs. A compact torso atop short powerful legs seemed almost to be an afterthought to what was arguably the most powerful set of jaws in Submantle. Thick muscles rippled along a neck longer than its body, coming to a jaw nearly as wide as Snort’s head and filled with a double row of jagged, stone-crushing teeth.

  Both creatures briefly turned to regard the latest arrival with beady, calculating eyes. Lulu’s mount looked over to her partner and with an unspoken command the rider-less creature evaded one of Snort’s lunges and darted to attack Lulu.

  The Hyena unleashed a piercing laugh, splayed its jaws wide and closed in on Lulu’s unprotected back even as Nifty loaded Riot and took aim at it’s legs.

  “Lassies,” came an authoritative command from Smoath as Nifty’s bat growled eagerly. “Heel.”

  With a visible slump, both creatures broke off their attacks like children at play being called in for dinner. Smoath had ignored Nifty’s suggestion to wait and had followed him out. He now stood in the doorway with a slightly larger version of Gillwattle’s kill cane clasped between his gnarled hands.

  Lulu leapt down from her involuntary mount, uncoiling her whip with an efficient flick.

  Nifty resisted the urge to strike as the hyenas trotted to their master’s side, passing uncomfortably close on the way. With tails wagging frantically, they met Smoath at the doors.

  Where my food? Snort signaled to Nifty from across the courtyard, almost eliciting a chuckle from the Ranger. A guilty shrug was his only response, causing the pushsnout to grunt loudly, stamping its hoof several times in displeasure.

  “I not be mad,” Smoath cooed to his beasts as they lowered their heads guiltily, moving in closer to cover him with slobbering licks. “Easy, easy girls. Now, smell them well and leave them be for now.” He fought his way around their persistent tongues. “Piper, Tatum, settle,” he finally commanded, in exasperation, causing them to drop immediately to either side of the doorway, panting expectantly with tongues lolling between razor sharp rows.

  “Now lass, what be the meaning of this?” Smoath barked as he regarded the fallen doors.

  Buried in one of the panels was Lulu’s work pick, a long-hafted, sleeker version of the standard issue power picks.

  “Sorry, Master Smoath, we have a situation,” Lulu said, out of breath from her struggle. “I was about to knock when these two fell upon us. They’ve met me before but they didn’t listen to my requests. They preferred a more… direct approach, I suppose. The pick was merely meant to attract your attention, nothing more.” Lulu spoke with an almost apathetic monotone. “I may have over-charged it slightly.”

  “Attract me attention, attract me attention? Well, I be gaining the Ranger council’s attention when I send them a request to recompense me for damages done to me foundry,” Smoath countered sharply, “By rights—”

  “What situation?” Nifty interjected, cutting off Master Smoath as he crossed towards Snort where his uniform was strapped to the saddle’s pommel. “Where are Scotty and Belle, and why did you bring the mounts?”

  “Sorry for our rudeness, Master Smoath, but Nifty and I need to move out. I was followed by a good-sized party of surprisingly well-resourced guards.” Lulu spared a brief glare for Nifty, then reached
up to Buttar’s saddle to remove one of two unfamiliar tools hanging from the hookblaster pouch.

  She crossed quickly to Smoath and thrust the device at him. “It’s a projectile weapon of some kind and it needs to find its way to the Rocktower Ranger council, if you please.” She split her focus between him and the surrounding buildings as she moved to her pick and un-wedged it from the door with a sharp tug.

  She jerked a thumb at Nifty, indicating that he should mount up, and crossed back to Buttar. “A dreadnaught arrived just as I entered the docks,” she said in response to Smoath’s quizzical glare. “Almost exactly the same hull as Nifty described from an encounter not more than a day ago. An impossible coincidence. There were also half a dozen green and silver liveried guards posted along the slips—I can only assume they were waiting for our return. I managed to deal with the six at Nifty’s train and warned Belle. She woke Scotty and sent me to fetch you.”